The Threshold
by brookied7172
Summary: I had an idea. I'm too stubborn to rid my mind of Phantom's characters, so I tweaked them a little, created my own story, and hope you'll review. Enjoy...
1. Door Opening

As she sat at her mirror that night, preparing to crawl into her bed, she caught herself not feeling as she should. She stared at herself in the mirror, the empty blue eyes looking back at her. Then she caught herself looking down at the ring again. There it sat on her left hand, so large that the size of the diamond even took her by surprise.

The proposal, though, had not. They'd known each other for a very long time. The two of them went back to childhood summers where he would visit her every day. They would spend a day in the attic reading to each other, another day they'd spend on the lakeshore, chasing her scarf in the wind. When she had turned twelve, he did not greet her when she arrived for the summer, and she spent the years after without him. She was nineteen when he found her again at her father's birthday celebration. They remembered the old days and talked all of the night in the courtyard of her home.

"I wish my father had told me you and your family were to be here. I might not have been so startled to see your bearded face!" she declared to him with a laugh.

"It truly has been too long," he said to her with a soft laugh. "I loved you with all of my soul in those days."

"And how do you feel now, sir?" she replied. He smiled softly and took her hand. Though his skin had been cool from the night air, the smoothness comforted her soul.

"I'm starting to discover my soul is still intact because of its love for you," he said to her softly, staring into the same blue eyes that now caught her in the mirror.

She remembered how he called on her the next day to lunch, and sat next to her at the theater that night next. She felt a love for him so dear that every kiss the two shared in private, every smile sent her way and every whisper of their love, how beautiful she was or how wonderful he was, had lightened the air around them. When her father passed, he was her rock. She cherished the memory of his refusal to leave her side after the funeral, and how he arrived for days in the earliest parts of the morning and left in the late hours of the night, when she had finally gone to sleep.

Only five months has passed since this time. They had courted for almost two years now. She knew she would marry him. She loved him more than she could love another. Her family had approved of the match, and she remembered how her father had adored the time all three of them had spent together.

"My dear," he had started to say on their walk that afternoon, "You know where my heart lies. You know how I am, what I desire. I have our families' permission, so all I require is yours – to marry you." She had laughed and cried before quickly nodding in response and almost shouting, "Yes!" He reached into his pocket while kissing her, and pulled out of a box the same stunning stone that now sat on her hand.

And now it was time to rest. But how could she? Her love for her fiancé was at a place her soul had never encountered, but something was holding her back. This thought was interrupted by repeated raps at her door. "Who is calling at this hour?" she asked herself as she wrapped her robe around her quickly. She quickly went down the staircase and instructed Georg to open it. When he did, a man collapsed across the threshold, holding his shoulder. She ran down and ordered Georg to call on the doctor and her fiancé. She lifted the man against her and called for Lizzie to bring her water, bandages, and the gin. The two slowly walked into the sitting room. "Can you hear me?" she asked as the man was laid onto her sitting room floor.

"Yes," he replied softly and groaned as she ripped his shirts to expose the afflicted shoulder. It was a deep knife wound in the middle of the shoulder blade. The lines of the muscles were magnificent, and she quickly remembered her task when Lizzie placed her requested items next to her.

"Lizzie, go grab an old sheet and pillow we don't use, and cover the sofa. We can't leave him on the floor all night." With that she was gone again.

"I apologize for the blood," he said.

"Hush now, and brace yourself. I have to clean your shoulder." She held her breath and he cringed as she started to pour the gin on the shoulder, and groaned as she started to wipe it with bandages. Then he was silent, fainted from the loss of blood and the pain.

Georg came back soon after with the doctor, and she explained the incident as he worked on the wound. He said the man would be all right, but needed to rest. She told Georg to send notes to her appointments for the next day, regretting her inability to attend. "No visitors tomorrow, either, Georg. Except for my fiancé." The word already rolled off of her tongue naturally, almost instinctively. "Did you call for him, Georg?"

"Yes, Madame, but I was informed he was obliged to London for two nights, a business emergency."

"Thank you, Georg. I'll write him instead. Thank you, Doctor, for your speed and ability."

"It's all a pleasure, Madame. But may I speak with you, privately?" With this the two left Georg and Lizzie to attend to completing the night's excitements. "Madame, are you well?"

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" she inquired with a laugh in return.

"Madame, if I may, your color has changed since we've last met."

"I thank you for your concern, Doctor, but-"

"Madame, may I examine you tomorrow. You could not imagine my deep regret if I were to miss anything."

"If you think it best, sir, very well. I don't imagine it would hurt," she replied.

"I'll come a quarter after nine o'clock," he replied with a bow and let himself out. She stood for a while, shocked, thinking of what could possibly be the subject of what Doctor Hadley had been so puzzled over. Her appetite had been healthy, although she had to relieve herself the past week or so after morning coffee. Then she realized – she had not bled this month. And at this she burst out to his carriage.

"Doctor," she called breathlessly, "what you suspect, and I know you do suspect," pausing for his understanding, "it cannot come to pass." He looked into her eyes and nodded.

"You are sure you do not object to this action?" he said to her softly, sternly.

"I am, sir," she said just as sternly. "The consequences-"

"The consequences of this can be more severe than you think, Miss Vancamp," he said. "You must be certain."

"I am certain," she replied.

"I'll see you in the morning, Madame." She watched his carriage pull away into the night, her hands drifting to clutch her waist. A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped away as she returned inside.

He awoke the next morning, his shoulder stiff, but in a bed, in a room with breakfast waiting on a table by the window. He sat up slowly, seeing his bloody clothes had been replaced by silk.

"Good morning, sir," said a servant at the door. "Our lady regrets that she cannot have the pleasure of formally meeting you today. She is detained for most of the day. She will see you at dinner later this evening. In the meantime, she invites you to make yourself welcome."

"Thank you," the man replied softly.

"The breakfast and coffee are fresh. Ring when you have finished and someone will come to take it away." With a nod, the servant left him to himself.

The stranger was beside himself, puzzled. The least he could have expected from anyone on Hermann Street is an ignored response than one at all. But the lady of this house had not turned him away, but instead treated him as a guest of the most important nature. He puzzled over the entire situation while enjoying the breakfast, shaving and dressing. And he continued to puzzle over it as he went down to the library. As he walked down the hall to find the main staircase, he passed a door, and heard two ladies.

"Lizzie, I cannot sit here all day when there is man in my home and my fiancé will be returning at any moment."

"Ma'am, you must rest. The Doctor-"

"The Doctor also said I would never be able to carry at all anyway, didn't he?" And this is when the stranger left, knowing was not his place to stay, though this only made his puzzle harder to solve.

By the time he had read two novels, taken a walk in the garden and played with a household dog, the stranger was prepared to go on his way. He started up the main staircase until he was met by the woman who cared for him.

"How is your shoulder, sir?" she asked whilst walking down. "Please, come join me," she told him and held out her hand.

"It's better, madam. I don't know how I can thank you for your kindnesses over the past day," he replied as they slowly walked to the drawing room.

"I don't think I had any other option, sir. You were bleeding all over my floor."

"But the accommodations you've made for me are beyond necessity," he replied. "I am indebted to you."

"Well, then, keep me company. That is all I require today," she said and held tight to his hand as she slowly sat down.

"Are you all right?" he asked when he saw the small wince creep across her expression.

"Oh yes, just stiff at times," she replied with a smile and invited him to sit with her. "I do apologize for not being more available to you this morning. I trust you were not kept idle."

"No madam," he replied with a grin. "Your home is very much a home, indeed."

"I am glad you believe so." They both sat and talked of what he had done that day, why he enjoyed his novels so well, and every other trifle two strangers were able to socially converse about. His speech was full of grace, his accent of the north. She found the way he spoke so attractive that she found it hard to continue the conversation on her own accord.

"Sir, I hope you do not find me cursory, but I have no knowledge of your name." The stranger laughed with her at the realization.

"Antony, ma'am," he said and bowed his head.

"Antony?" she repeated with a chuckle. "Your name is famous."

"My mother was a patron of the arts, a woman of the theater and the opera."

"And Shakespeare, of course," the lady interjected.

"Yes. She would read his lines to me every night." Antony stopped then and looked down at his feet. She could see the sad memory stretch through his mind .

"Christine," he heard. He looked up at his host in confusion. "My name. Christine," she repeated. He shook his head and laughed at himself for not guessing it.

Antony had not noticed how beautiful the host was until then. Her red hair waved and fell against her, her blue eyes shining in the afternoon light, and her red lips entranced him as she spoke. Christine was indeed beautiful, but one accessory she did not draw attention to was the diamond on her left hand.

Christine saw how he looked at her at that moment, and felt herself blush. It had been some time since a man, other than Henry, had looked at her that way. It caught her off guard. He moved closer to her on the sofa and placed an arm behind her, leaning closer to her. She didn't move until they heard somebody run up the front steps, to the door.

"Darling!" Christine turned away from Antony and called back to her fiancé. He was out of breath when he entered the room. "Christine, are you all right?"

"Yes, dear, I'm fine."

"I got a message early this morning from Andre. He said that Doctor Hadley had been called here. That there was an incident."

"There was but it was not me. Henry, this is Antony. He was in need of the doctor last night. He's been my guest today."

"Sir, Henry Millison," her fiancé said to the guest, holding out his hand.

"Antony Wiltshire."

"An old name, sir. You are certainly welcome." His attentions turned back to Christine. "Are you sure you are all right, darling?"

"Henry, I am fine. Please be gentle, nevertheless." Antony saw the way he had held her at her waist and the pain in her face when he shifted her about. "Is business in London taken care of?"

"Never, darling," he said with a sigh. "But when I received a message this morning I was excused indefinitely to attend to my fiancée." At this they both exchanged a smile. "I hope my Christine has not bored you to death with her gossip and such, sir."

"Not in the slightest. I have quite enjoyed the conversation. But I do regret it is time for me to continue on. I do not wish to impose any longer." With this Antony stood.

"Antony, are you sure you have the strength to go," Christine asked him. "I would hate to hear of more misfortune on your behalf."

"Thank you for that, madam, but I am due to Greenwich tomorrow. If I stay longer, my family will not appreciate the lack the notice."

"Well, let us lend you our carriage," Henry insisted. "It is the least we can do if you do desire to head on."

"I'm very much obliged to you both for the kindnesses you've extended to me." Henry nodded, kissed Christine's hand, and left to prepare the carriage. Antony was again alone with Christine, his heart fluttering. His desire to leave increased with every moment. The smiles she gave to him, the kiss he laid on her skin… The sweat on the back his neck gathered. "Your fiancé is a fine gentleman."

"So are you, Antony." He laughed at her response and bowed, proceeding to leave her there in the drawing room. "Mr. Wiltshire!" she called in shock. He looked at her with a smug grin, and Christine was surprised at the behavior. "Have I offended you?"

"No, madam, I have offended myself."

"Please, Antony, let me see you off," she asked of him and held out her hands to him. Antony took the soft appendages, and looked at her with concern when she let out a large sigh after standing. "It's nothing. Henry doesn't require knowing."

"As your partner, madam, I believe he does."

"He is not my husband, yet," she said sternly. Antony and Christine looked at each other, just as they did before Henry had arrived, deeply and unrelenting. Christine saw Antony's tanned skin and brown eyes, the straightness of shoulders and the puff of his chest. She felt his arms begin to wrap around her. He felt her hand trace the line of his jaw and down the back of his neck. He pulled her close and felt her warmth as his lips moved closer to hers.

She turned from him when Georg entered, announcing the carriage ready for Mr. Wiltshire. Antony cleared his throat and nodded, turning back to her. "Thank you, Christine. For all you and Mr. Millison have done for me." He bowed slowly, gracefully, artfully. He took her hand, and held it gently before softly laying his lips against the skin he had longed to touch all afternoon. The kiss sent chills down Christine's body, and before she could return any word, Antony was gone.

She stayed in the doorway, watching her future husband see her guest off. She loved Henry for his kindness. He was warm and gentle, more than any man she knew; his manner perfect and his love remarkable.

Then she met Antony under the strangest circumstances, and the strangeness continued when she attempted to decide how she had felt. He had challenged her in their moments together to open herself up to him, and she had in their last seconds. No man had done so with her before. The way he smiled and laughed soothed her soul, even though she had been weakened by the morning.

It was when Christine saw the carriage drive away and see Henry walk back to her that she thought, "He's mine, and I'm his." Her heart swelled and a tear ran down her cheek. The baby was never spoken of. Christine was thankful for it, because she did not know if he would ever forgive her for willingly killing their child… their son…

Antony knew, and on his trip to Greenwich he wondered what would have caused her to do such a thing. Was it her reputation? Her fiancé's? Theirs as a pair? The ideas horrified him and he left the thoughts alone, except for one: why hadn't he kissed her when he so badly desired to? Would she have let him? Her touch and expression made him think so. But all was lost, by the time Antony reached Greenwich, Christine had left the day behind and was happier than any woman of twenty-one could be.


	2. The Symbol

"Christine, darling, your garden is sublime," Margaret said whilst mixing her afternoon tea. "I do believe I will miss having afternoon tea here with you the most after the wedding."

"Now, Margaret-"

"Mother, Christine, please. It's about time for us to act like mother and daughter."

"Mother," Christine said with a smile, "Henry and I discussed the possibility of leaving the home as it is, for family to use at their leisure."

"Can Henry afford such a thing while also paying for the new grounds outside of Harlow?"

"He says there should be no problems. And think of it, Margaret-"

"Mother," she interjected.

"When we visit with grandchildren in the years to come, the space will surely benefit us." Margaret nodded and sipped quietly as Christine continued on about how much she adored her spot, and couldn't imagine giving it up in any place.

Margaret was Christine's most fervent advocate. Her father had met Margaret and her husband Mr. Millison in the local summer circles. After her father's death, Margaret always did was she could for her now daughter-in-law. The two were now almost inseparable. Christine cherished her mother-in-law more than any other of Henry's family.

Christine looked up at that moment from her tea and saw Henry leaning against the doorway, smiling at her.

"Margaret, did Henry enjoy the church we saw yesterday? I know there will be an immense amount of dressing up to do, but I did so enjoy the idea of having the ceremony there."

"My dear, I'm sure Henry would marry you in the attic if it pleased you."

"My mother does know me completely, doesn't she darling?" Margaret embraced and kissed her son after his interruption, as she did in every instance that the two greeted one another. Henry was her favorite, more sensible, well-mannered, and good-natured than his older brothers. All had gone to military service except for Henry, Margaret forbade it.

"Goodness damns the mother who doesn't know her own son," Margaret replied to him.

"To answer your question, darling fiancée, I enjoyed the church with all of my heart. This is why I had it booked for us this spring, just as you wished."

"Henry, dear, you didn't!" Christine exclaimed. "You are too incredible, my darling." Henry kissed her cheek and dismissed himself to the study to finish letters for business in London.

"Are we still to accompany you and father to the theater tonight, mother?"

"Yes, Henry. We leave at promptly at half past."

"Splendid," he replied and finally excused the women back to tea, gossip and wedding planning.

"Christine," Margaret started to say, "What does Henry say concerning the appearance of his brothers tonight?"

"I cannot dare to guess, I'm afraid. Since last we discussed it, he is excited for me to meet them at last."

"You will enjoy them, I'm sure. Andrew has Henry's kindness, and Johnathon, his father's knack for humor." Christine giggled at the way Margaret expressed Mr. Millison's character. Henry's father had been a large reason of why she adored his family so.

The first time she was reacquainted with Henry's family had been after their first ball together. The pair had gone back to Millison Grounds, Henry inviting her to enjoy some private time over tea. Millison Grounds was notorious for its grandeur, comparable with every aspect of the Millison life. Christine's host led her inside. Of course at the door he stopped and kissed her softly, as he always did when they were alone.

The grand staircase spiraled through the center of the house. The entry hallway led two ways at the staircase; to the left was the dining room and to the right a sitting room. "Is that you, Henry?" came from the right, and with a smile, he led his guest in the sitting room where Mr. and Mrs. Millison were seated.

"Mother, Father, I hope you will remember my childhood friend, Christine Vancamp." She was quickly embraced by Margaret while Henry shook his father's hand.

"Sweet, Christine, how beautiful you have become. I remember just yesterday sitting at tea and remembering the summers you and Henry spent together."

"Thank you, Mrs. Millison. They indeed are sweet memories," Christine replied as she bowed for Henry's father. "Mr. Millison, I did not believe your son when he said you hadn't aged a day. But now I do believe he was right all along!"

The four sat together reminiscing and catching up, asking if Mr. Vancamp would ever plan a visit, if Christine was enjoying her time in town. But soon it became too late, and Christine was to return. Margaret shared another embrace, saying she would call on her soon. Henry left to prepare a carriage, and Mr. Millison offered himself as entertainer while she waited.

"Miss Vancamp, I hope you know the opinion Henry has of you," he said.

"And what is that?"

"Of course, he deplores you, my dear," and Christine laughed. "Why else would he bring you to see old codgers like us?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, sir."

"Yes, well, when you are as old as I am, dearest, you seem to have been given too much." He embraced Christine and kissed the top of her head as Henry returned. "You are always welcome here, Miss Vancamp."

Christine took Henry's arm and he led her out of the house. He was so happy with the outcome of the night. The way she charmed his parents was astonishing. But he adored her, especially as she kissed him outside the carriage, confessing how she longed to spend all night with him.

"One day, when I'm able to marry you properly, you will," he whispered and stroked her cheek.

"How long, Henry?" she asked. He shook his head and regretted deeply not being able to answer her. "It doesn't matter. I would wait forever." He pulled her close and they kissed again, one where Christine felt fully the love he had for her. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"At first light, my darling," he said, kissing her again and then helping her into the carriage. Christine held his hand through the window until the forward speed of the carriage separated them, both hearts full.

Christine remembered that night as she prepared for the theater. A knock at the door, she ushered to enter, revealed Henry. His blond hair, deep green eyes and wide smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Millison," he said as he walked toward her at the mirror.

"Now, Mr. Millison, we aren't married yet," she replied.

"Regrettably, Mrs. Millison," he whispered in her ear as he kissed the crook between her neck and shoulder.

"Darling, please let me finish before you ruin me," she playfully scolded with a giggle. He obliged and instead pulled out a long, black box and placed it in front of her. "Henry, dear," Christine exclaimed in surprise.

"Open it," he said and knelt down next her. His wide smile reappeared as the box opened and her eyes grew wide. A necklace crusted with diamonds along the chain, with a large sapphire pendant at the center, looked back at her. "This pendant," Henry said, "was given to my grandmother when Albert and Victoria gave us our family title. All the women of our family have worn this jewel."

"This should go to your mother, darling."

"She said you would say that," Henry chuckled. "And then she said, 'Henry if she doesn't feel worthy of it, then she only deserves it more.'" He took the box from her and stood, placing the necklace around her. When his hands lingered, she reached up and touched them. "You are Mrs. Millison, Christine." With that he kissed her again, and the two left to meet the carriage.


	3. The Reminder

There at the theater the pair met Raoul, Christine's brother, and his wife Abigail. It was always a delight for the two couples to spend time together. Tonight, Christine's happiness was beyond what she thought would ever be. All of her family, present and future, together, her fiancé at her left, and a beautiful new pendant lying across her neck. Compliments and congratulations surrounded her and Henry, asking to see the ring, asking for wedding details. This had been the first large event the future Mr. and Mrs. Millison had attended together as an engaged, and happily contracted, pair.

Christine took her brother's arm as they made their way to the Millison box. "Raoul, you do approve, don't you?" Christine asked him quietly.

"Immensely," he said. "I know of no one more perfect."

"Would father approve?" she asked him. Raoul cleared his throat and turned her to him. Their father's death still pained both of them, her brother the most. He had loved both Raoul and Christine immensely, but Raoul was the family heir. The pride he had for her brother was unmatched.

"Are you happy, sister?"

"Beyond words," she said back to him.

"Then that is all father would want." Raoul loved his sister, and was always forward with her. "Now, I think it's time I hand you off to a more appropriate companion." With this, Henry's father came and walked his daughter-in-law-to-be to the family box.

"That sapphire is beautiful on you, Christine," he said to her. "I can't deny that I chuckle at the thought of your expression when it was first presented." Christine laughed with him at his remark.

"It is beautiful, Mr. Millison. You all are too incredibly kind to me. I hope to repay it someday."

"Well, my dear, there are only two things I can think of that might suffice," he said and Christine smiled at what his thoughts would be. "One, of course, is to keep my son happy and to support him. This shouldn't be too hard for you since you do so naturally."

"And your second wish?" she asked him.

"Grandsons, of course! Too many to count," he exclaimed.

"I'm sure we will have no problems with those requests, Mr. Millison," she laughed. Christine had not the heart to tell him of her uncertainty. She quickly pushed this string of thoughts out of her mind, for all they had done was distress her.

Henry had promptly joined her before entering the opera box. Christine had forgotten that his brothers were waiting. He quietly whispered, "I love you," to her as they turned into the doorway.

They were greeted by Margaret first, embraced and kissed as always, like it had been ages since she had seen them. "Has the favorite son finally arrived?" an unknown voice spoke.

"And it seems the prodigal son has returned, as well," Henry retorted. One brother in uniform walked slowly to them with the same Millison smile and air. "Welcome home, Jonathon," said Henry, and embraced his eldest brother.

"It is wonderful to see you, little brother," Jonathon said. "But we are being incredibly rude to my new little sister, or says my social circle that she is to become."

"Jonathon, this is my fiancée, Christine Vancamp." She curtsied and took Jonathon's hand after.

"You surely are beautiful, sister. My brother never did you justice in his letters to me." Jonathon laughed and kissed her hands. "And I see they've given you the correct welcome with the sapphire."

"Jonathon-" Margaret interjected but he continued.

"Henry, I do believe the eldest brother was to receive this jewel."

"Is that true, Henry?" Christine asked him quietly.

"Father and Mother agreed that Christine was the best to wear it, Jonathon," Henry said firmly.

"Margaret, I do not require such a jewel," Christine said. "Please, if Jonathon is the rightful owner-"

"No." Mr. Millison stood straight and gave Jonathon a hard look. "The sapphire will stay where it now lies. Ladies, please excuse us gentlemen." Margaret and Christine left the men and took their seats. Christine could faintly hear him scold the two brothers.

"Mother," Christine said as she sat, "is something the matter with Jonathon?"

Margaret responded with a solemn look, "When Jonathon returned home today, it was with a dishonorable discharge. For what, I am not sure. But it has set him very much on edge. I am so sorry for the way you're first meeting him."

"It's all right, Mother, really." Christine could tell this was distressing her, and changed the subject to how the sapphire looked. This brightened Margaret's eyes and after a few moments, the two were chipper and well.

"Christine," Henry called, "come! There's another here for you to meet." Both mother and daughter rose to see a strapping captain shaking his father's hand. "Andrew, my fiancée-"

"Christine Vancamp!" the Captain exclaimed. "I remember those eyes vividly. I also remember the summers when I would toss your scarf into the air, pestering my younger brother and you."

"Oh, Andrew, was that you? You certainly were a trouble-maker!"

"Yes, well, it seems all my pestering only strengthened my brother's resolve to keep you with us forever." The family laughed and the new brother tightly embraced the new sister. Christine could see Jonathon giving glares to Andrew as he talked with Mr. Millison of his campaigns. But she adored Andrew's warmth, something that he had inherited from Margaret.

Henry kept close to his fiancée after that, and as the family took their seats. "Your brothers are a delight, darling," Christine assured him as they sat. All Henry could do was shake his head apologetically. "Henry, dear, it's all right. Really." She took his hand and kissed it softly.

Christine was full of grace, and kindness beamed from every look of her eyes. Jonathon's behavior was inexcusable, Henry was embarrassed for him. And regrettably, ashamed of him. Henry could thickly smell the gin and cigars on his brother as he first embraced him. Whether Christine had or had not, or chose not to address it, Henry did not know. Andrew on the other hand, was the kind of man he wanted to be. Of honorable character, a delight to others… Andrew was his brother, Jonathon was not.

The opera began and all of their attentions turned to the stage. The orchestrations swelled and voices rose above the audience, transcending them. Christine always took the time after the start of the first act to scan the audience. She would often see her friends on the floor, her brother and sister-in-law across the theater in a box to themselves. Tonight, she saw a new guest in the Morgan's box. His back was turned, talking to Charles, the heir of Mr. Morgan's immense fortune. Christine raised her opera glasses to get a better look at the man when he had finally turned to the stage.

It was then that she stopped breathing, and slowly took her glasses down. But her eyes stayed straightforward on the ghost who was staring back at her. _Antony._ His eyes caught hers and he gave a small nod, with the same smirk that told her goodbye those four weeks ago. She thought she had forgotten him, but the feelings of that afternoon, that day, flooded back.

His heart soared when she saw him across the theater. Antony had certainly not forgotten Christine Vancamp. Her blue eyes had followed him every day since he had left her. She looked just as beautiful then as she did when he told her goodbye.

Christine leaned to Henry asking who would be visiting the box at intermission that night. "The Morgan's, I believe. Charles has a friend he wants us all to meet." She started to panic a little, and then got ahold of herself again. Antony meant nothing. Their moment together meant nothing. It was a moment of weakness, that afternoon. The resolve was strengthened, and Christine was prepared as intermission came.

"Charles, you look splendid," Margaret said as he was introduced. "I'm sure you don't need an introduction to my sons."

"No, madam. It is always a pleasure to see you all safe and sound, gentlemen," Charles said with a bow. "I do wish to extend my congratulations to you, Henry and Miss Vancamp. Many blessings on your future together." Christine squeezed his sleeve lightly, her secret way of showing Henry her love. "I'd like to take the opportunity to introduce you all to my friend, Antony Wiltshire," Charles said as Antony entered.

"Well, what a surprise," Henry exclaimed, "isn't it, darling?" She nodded with a smile as Henry continued. "Antony, you devil. How is Greenwich?"

"Splendid," he replied shortly.

"Charles, this man is quite a gentleman, indeed! My beautiful fiancée had the pleasure of seeing to this man after an incident. Isn't that right, Mr. Wiltshire?"

"Indeed," Antony replied again. "Miss Vancamp showed me many kindnesses."

"Christine, why are you so silent?" Henry chuckled. "It's as if you've seen a ghost."

"Almost, my dear," she said back. "I'm glad to see no other misfortunes found you, Mr. Wiltshire."

"And you, as well, Miss Vancamp."

"I've heard of you before, Mr. Wiltshire," Jonathon said, stepping forward. "Last summer in Bath, that was you, wasn't it?" Antony laughed nervously and nodded. Jonathon let out a hearty laugh and slapped Antony on the back. "You are most certainly welcome here, sir. Your reputation does indeed precede you! Andrew can say so, as well, how popular you are among ranks." Every one turned to face the middle brother, and Andrew lightly smiled before sinking into an emotion nobody knew how to decipher. "Mr. Wiltshire, I would most enjoy your company at the end of this spectacle."

"If you insist," Antony said. This irritated Christine, a man who had so brashly left her after their time together is no man she wanted around Henry's family. She stayed quiet though, realizing her position. Jonathon instructed Antony to meet him after the opera. Charles and his friend went back to their respective box and Henry attended to Christine, repeating how humorous the surprise was. He could see she hadn't enjoyed the gathering as much as he had expected her to, but he said nothing of the matter and kept his attentions on helping her to feel better.

By the end of the opera, Christine was ready to be home with Henry, sitting by the fire reading to him and feeling his arms around her. The two were invited back to Millison Grounds but Henry declined on their behalf, knowing that she was ready to be home. He was too. Henry adored the nights where he was able to enjoy her company and her love without having to abide by social etiquette. At home he could kiss her with passion, at home his hands could travel where they may, and at home she could do the same.

The carriage ride was quiet, but a nice quiet. Christine leaned against her fiancé, and he wrapped his arms around her. His senses were attuned to her scent, a lavender she wore every day. Henry slowly started to notice she had fallen asleep, and when they arrived at the house he gently lifted her into his arms from the carriage. She awoke when he kissed her nose gently.

"Are you trying to make advances, Mr. Millison," she whispered to him.

"Only if it's working, Miss Vancamp."

"Millison, silly," she corrected and Henry smiled his brilliant smile. He carried her into the house, up the stairs past Georg and Lizzie, and into her room.

When he set her down she kissed him softly and his hands wandered down the line of her back and to her waist. "Should I stay, Mrs. Millison?" he asked her as she started to take off his coat.

"Forever, Mr. Millison," she whispered and the two met with passion. He turned her around and kissed her back as he untied every string, unbuttoned every button until she stood before him, running his hands over every inch of her skin. Henry lifted her into his arms again as she stripped off his shirts. Christine felt his dominance comforting, a presence not meant to overpower with authority, but to love with all ability. Her hands caressed the lines of his shoulders as he covered her in his kiss. His hands travelled up her legs, and their bodies pressed together. Christine sighed as he tightened his arms around her.


End file.
